


Maybe next time...

by Captainforacause



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Abortion, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Blood and Injury, M/M, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-24
Updated: 2014-07-24
Packaged: 2018-02-10 04:38:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2011212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Captainforacause/pseuds/Captainforacause
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He'd been doing so good, better than the last few times, and Brock wasn't getting any younger... Maybe he just wasn't fit to be a parent?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Maybe next time...

**Author's Note:**

> Based on an rp with My-hell-is-empty (find them on tumblr~) where Brock is an Omega. It's accidental and kinda sad, but I like writing depressing things haha! 
> 
> Anyway, warning there is mention of murder and there will be violence.

Brock staggered as bullets pelted the Kevlar vest adorning his chest, groaning out in pain but firing back at their targets none the less - missing; to his dismay - only to hear a gunshot by his ear like clockwork, downing the first man and splattering the brains of the second. Typical, always showing everyone up, but that was what James was designed for, complete and utter perfection in combat. And then they were moving again with a cursory glance from 'the weapon's' gaze which Brock could only assume was his way of showing concern without acting on instinct. 

Protect the Omega, that's all he ever seemed to think about - and with good reason; a smile was offered across the agent's scarred lips and all was well. Next target, new building, Winter led the way as always, Jack, Brock, and the STRIKE team were always there as back up, made to stay out of James' way unless intervention was necessary. 

Why hadn't he seen it coming, ignoring his hormone enhanced senses in favour of swallowing the nausea that rose in his throat as a keen sense of smell tracked his Alpha up a flight of stairs to the next mark. This was the smoothest he'd ever gone - three months to be exact - and every mission he took was more and more of a risk, enough so that he'd outed himself to Rollins, swore him to secrecy no less, but the man offered an extra assistance in dire need. It was logical, cause fuck if he was gonna let some other dick know, they'd go straight to Pierce and Rumlow would become his right hand man for an entirely different reason.

If one Asset was good, two was even better, and he had all the more reason to get out of Hydra as soon as possible...

He shouldn't have done it, but no one disagreed, they didn't want to be decked for insubordination as Brock took down two screaming bystanders, they would have alerted the entire street - again, logical. With the second set of marks down, it was time to high-tail it out of there; except of course there was Captain spangles and his team of SHIELD operatives in the way. Blondie really did have a knack for fucking up people's days, didn't he? And here Brock was hoping he'd have a successful mission with no bumps along the way - no pun intended.

Catching a metal arm he barked a few simple commands; keeping Winter away from the star spangled creep was priority. "To the vehicle, no detours, no fighting." He kept it quick, harsh, shoved James around like he was nothing more than an Asset to him - something they both knew was necessary - and like the idiot he was, took point...

It was the usual fire fight, save for the STRIKE team retreating, throwing stun and smoke grenades in their wake as a cursory attempt to keep the other operatives at bay. Again, his instincts were on fire, why? He couldn't pin-point it, Winter was fine, he was fast and agile enough to rush before them and open the van. Jack was still standing, had shrapnel burn up his right arm but that was easily fixed, and then he heard it, the soft, metallic, clatter of a grenade about a metre and a half to his left. 

"Fuck."

A cursory shove made light work of getting Jack behind cover, knocking another agent back in the process as Brock bolted for the nearest thing to shelter him from the blast - to little avail. Ears ringing and arms scorched - if but only a little, it was still damn painful - the agent groaned as familiar hands yanked him to his feet, half walking, half dragging the brunet towards the van. Fortunately the Kevlar vest had protected his torso for from the shrapnel and blast itself... but the shockwave and stress of the impact? Not so much. 

The vehicle set in motion, speeding off as it always did as the pained, panting, STRIKE leader counted his troops. All but one, that's a win in his books. Then he felt it, doubling over and slumping down against the floor with a harsh growl of disapproval. He'd been doing so good, but the stress of concern and injury had placed too much strain on his body as the agent kicked at the bottom of the vehicle in frustration, clawing at his cramping belly as if it would help. 

Every time, he'd never admit it, but Brock couldn't help but long for a child, and now - as he felt what he could only assume was blood, trickle down his thigh - he knew it wasn't going to happen again. It wasn't as though the pain was all that bad, moreover, the shock of the event itself that dropped him, heck, the last time it didn't even hurt, and the time before that, a forced abortion. Either way, it was still the most emotionally draining and hideously disappointing experience one could ever endure; and that's coming from a man who kills for a living...

"F-fuck, no..." He managed, gritting his teeth against the sting of tears as Jack shot him a look of concern, one mirrored in James's eyes. "I-I... I lost it."


End file.
